Noteworthy
by DoublyToxicWaste
Summary: Last will and testament of: Candace Flynn.


_By the time you read this, I'll be dead._

Candace paused, frowning, squinting critically at her handwriting. Eh, it didn't matter. Neat penmanship wasn't a skill worth devoting her time to anyway – and she'd get Dr. Baljeet to transcribe for her later, with that fancy computer of his, and it'd be plenty legible then. What was important was that she get it down.

She was the one in charge – the one who gave the orders.

Someday that might not be the case. There was the chance that one day, she'd be just that little bit too slow – and that would be the end. It was not something she intended to allow to happen, nor was it something she feared happening.

The reality of the situation still never changed. This was what she did, it was dangerous, one day it might kill her. She didn't really care so much about herself – as long as she got to take Doofenshmirtz and the rest of his rotten family down with her, it was of no concern what happened to her.

What was of concern, however, was how the people who so dearly depended on her from day to day would get on in her absence. There was, of course, the OWCA. OWCA with their animal agents, led by Monogram, that doddering old man who liked to talk about things 'before' the Oppression.

Candace couldn't remember a time 'before'. There was no 'before', not to her, and Monogram's incessant ramblings on the subject irritated her. The only reason that she'd even let him continue to run the operation was because, as alternatives went, he was the best at handling those animal agents for what they were. The only up-and-coming alternative of any real value was that kid, Karl.

He wasn't a 'kid' anymore – he was older than Candace herself was. But he hardly acted it, at any rate, and had the attention span and self-discipline of a goldfish. Honestly, Candace had looked into just running the OWCA hands-on herself, the way she did everything else around here, but it would've taken too much time from more important things.

So, the old man did his shtick, and OWCA answered to him, and he answered to her.

She answered to no-one.

Then there was the Militia – and the Firestorm Girls, which by this point were basically one and the same. Shapiro was a capable enough second-in-command, and Candace was pleased with how well she'd trained the younger woman. Shapiro had her weaknesses, as everyone else did – she was still too soft for Candace's liking, but then again, so was everyone. It was something Candace'd learned to cope with – the reason why she was the sole leader of the Reconstruction process and the one best suited for the job of hunting down rats until they were dead.

Shapiro would probably do reasonably well in light of Candace's death. The woman was smart, and capable, and although she was sometimes given to being too emotional or just whiny, she at least had the presence of mind to not let that interfere when it was important. It was why Candace'd chosen her to be second-in-command in the first place.

Both of these things were of some concern. Once before, many years ago now, Candace had foolishly tried to leave her life behind her. Upon… not failing, per se, but merely finding that she couldn't leave it behind because there was simply nowhere else for her to go, she'd returned to find both paramilitary branches collapsed into utter chaos. They needed a firm, cool hand at the tiller and head at the helm: someone who wouldn't get perturbed by emotion or distracted by fear or weakened by a desire to get away, someone whose entire life was wrapped up in doing what she did, because the only true way to guarantee safety was to remove the source of danger.

They needed her.

She hadn't written anything yet. Though both these things were important, yes, and would need to be addressed, neither of them were particularly prominent in her mind just then. The orders she'd issue for them in case of her death would be short, simple, and to the point: Shapiro would take over her duties in running the Militia. She wasn't an ideal replacement, no, but she was the best one available, and Candace was confident that, by now, the woman could at least run the thing without letting it fall apart at the seams.

Similarly, Karl would have to step up and run OWCA on his own, working with Shapiro to maintain a uniform front against Doofenshmirtz. Candace didn't trust the old man to such a degree that she'd let him have an authority that didn't directly answer to her: in case of her death, he was out of there.

Still, she didn't write any of that down, not just yet. Gripping the marker more firmly, though, she leaned forward and finally put its tip back to the paper.

T _o Phineas and Ferb:_

 _If you ever lay eyes on these words or this sheet of paper, it means I'm dead, or captured. Knowing Doofenshmirtz, either option is going to end up with me dead before long._

 _The emergency switch in the base's lower floor should have been pulled. If it hasn't, then you'll have to do it yourselves when you arrive, because that's what I'm telling you to do. No matter what, you will not leave my bunker after reading this note. If you arrive at base and the emergency lights aren't on, stop by the emergency room on the way to my bunker and flip the switch yourselves. No one will challenge you._

 _Once that's done, bunker. Lock the door and sit tight, for at least four weeks. If Doofenshmirtz catches wind that I died, or if he was the one who killed me, he's going to attack this base in a way the likes of which no one has ever seen. You'll be safe there. There's rations of food and water for six months, and the Firestorm Girls will have been instructed to seal the door from the outside with concrete and dirt until it's invisible. No one will ever find you down there, and you'll be safe from whatever goes on topside._

She paused for a moment, her eyes flickering up to her staff leaning next to her, at some faint sound drifting through the room. It was nothing – only the creaking of the stool she was sitting on. Satisfied for the moment, she resumed.

 _I didn't intend for this to happen – I swore to never let harm come to you. Given that you're reading this, I'm dead, and that means I've failed. Don't get upset: you can't do important things with people you can't trust holding you back. I've clearly failed on my promise, and so that means-_

Candace hesitated slightly. There weren't many things left in the world that could give her pause, and yet she was finding it perhaps more difficult than it should have been to continue.

 _-it means you're better off without me. I'm sorry. I don't deserve forgiveness for failure, and will not try to ask for any. What you need to do now is find someone who you can trust to take up my promise without breaking it. You're smart boys: I know you'll do just fine._

 _I love you both._


End file.
